Everlark: Keep Me Close
by fangirlingsohardidie
Summary: When Katniss Everdeen finds out she is going back into the arena her world seems to turn upside down and there is only one thing keeping her grounded, Peeta Mellark. Follow Katniss and Peeta as they face their fears and try to save each other from the terrors that await them in the arena.
1. Chapter 1

_This is an extract from __**Catching Fire. Part II - The Quell, Chapter 12, Pages 205 - 209. **__I have taken this to set the scene for my fan fiction and explain where I am picking up the story from._

When we gather around the television at seven-thirty, I discover that Prim is right. Sure enough, there's Caesar Flickerman, speaking before a standing-room-only crowd in front of the Training Centre, talking to an appreciative crowd about the upcoming nuptials. He introduces Cinna, who became an overnight star with his costumes for me in the Games, and after a minute of good-natured chit-chat, we're directed to turn our attention to a giant screen.

I see now how they could photograph me yesterday and present the special tonight. Initially, Cinna designed two dozen wedding gowns. Since then, there's been the process of narrowing down the designs, creating the dresses, and choosing the accessories. Apparently, in the Capitol, there were opportunities to vote for your favourites at each stage. This is all culminating with shots of me in the final six dresses, which I'm sure took no time at all to insert into the show. Each shot is met with a huge reaction from the crowd. People screaming and cheering for their favourites, booing the ones they don't like. Having voted, and probably bet on the winner, people are very invested in my wedding gown. It's bizarre to watch when I think how I never even bothered to try one on before the cameras arrived. Caesar announces that interested parties must cast their final vote by noon on the following day.

"Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" he hollers to the crowd. I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

"What will they do?" asks Prim. "It isn't for months yet."

We turn to our mother, whose expression is solemn and distant, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the reading of the card."

The anthem plays, and my throat tightens with revulsion as President Snow takes the stage. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.

These words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several districts are rebelling right now.

President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbours than have your name drawn from the reaping ball.

"On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won...

"I had a friend that went that year," says my mother quietly. "Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweetshop. They gave me her songbird afterwards. A canary."

Prim and I exchange a look. It's the first time we've ever heard of Maysilee Donner. Maybe because my mother knew we would want to know how she died.

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his fingers under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

My mother gives a faint shriek and Prim buries her face in her hand, but I feel more like the people I see in the crowd on the television. Slightly baffled. What does it mean? Existing pool of victors?

Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me, District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female...

I am going back into the arena.


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the reaping is hot and sweaty. The entire population of District 12 waits in the boiling sun bunched together as a tight crowd. I stand in a roped off pen with Haymitch and Peeta in a similar one across from me. In the middle stands Effie who doesn't seem too happy to be here. She glances over at me with a grim expression, I have never seen Effie so down.

Effie makes the speech but we do not see the Capitol's video this time. "As always, girls first." This reaping is different, not only is it a quarter quell but there are many differences to a normal reaping. My name is picked and Effie reads it out loudly but not proud like last year when she read Primrose's name. We share a glance and I see Haymitch shift uneasily. I step out of my pen and join Effie.

"Now for the boys." Effie steps over to the male reaping ball and hovers over them until she picks one out. My heart is racing. Then Effie reads out the name and my heart stops. Effie smiles happily at the name but I am not happy, there is no way I can be happy. Before Haymitch can even glance at me Peeta volunteers in his place and steps next to Effie like I did.

The three fingered salutes begin and Peeta joins in, me following. This is my only way to show respect. At the first reaping, when Rue died and now. The three finger salute is a way of showing how we, as a district, fit together and know each other. We respect our district.

Peacekeepers surround out and we are pulled away from the stage and into the town hall, before the doors close I can only catch one glance of Prim. My sister, my unfortunate sister.

Peeta pulls me close and I cry into his but only for a few moments before we are pulled apart and rushed away to the train station. The whole time my hand is linked with Peeta's and I never want to let him It is like he is my life line and if I let go I will die. I never want to let go.

Once on the train we all head into the food room and just like the first time my eyes are met with feasts of food. I don't step in and only enter the room when Peeta pulls me in after him. He takes a seat uneasily as do I, releasing his hand. "I didn't get to say goodbye." I mumble under my breath.

As I look to Peeta he gazes at me caringly, he heard what I said. Peeta didn't get to say goodbye either. But Peeta knows how much those goodbyes mean to me. The soothing of Prim, the kiss of Gale and the whispers of my Mother. Those were all goodbyes I needed to make because I will never have another chance. My duty now is to keep Peeta alive and that means I will not return.

Peeta leans in and brushes a piece of deep brown hair from my eye, his hand grazing my cheek gently. "Peeta..." Peeta shakes his head and then his lips meet mine softly. It isn't one if our passion filled kisses, it is a south and comforting kiss. Peeta cares and I know that, I care for Peeta too.

It's moments like these where I am both happy and unhappy. I am happy about having Peeta here with me while I am unhappy about leaving my family behind and protecting Peeta, but it is what I have to do. He would have given his life for me in the last games and now I owe him my life.

When Peeta pulls away I give a weak smile and rest my head onto his shoulder as he strokes my hair gently. I close my eyes and drift to sleep in Peeta's arms, the only arms I want draped over me, rubbing my back and soothing my thoughts. Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread.


End file.
